Draco Malfoy and the Totally Random Engagment
by Grammarfreak16
Summary: The bad things in life have a way of either becoming miracles, or becoming nightmares. Draco just knew that this was going to be a case of the latter.
1. The Proposal

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the shirt on my back and the battered quill pen in my pocket!

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Draco Malfoy and the Totally Random Engagement

Ch1: The Proposal

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"I HATE MY LIFE!!!" Kingsley Shacklebolt, minister of magic, yelled to the heavens above him, a.k.a. the enchanted ceiling of his office. 

He paced a short path around his desk for the umpteenth time that evening, muttering incoherently to himself and attempting to tug at his hair before realizing that he was indeed bald. He heard a distinct snort from the mirror hanging on the wall. Great. Even the furniture was mocking him.

The Minister's office appeared as though a raging snorkack had just passed through, but left because the place was too messy. Odd bits of parchment lay strewn across the floor with various things scribbled on them ranging from an important note to the African emissary to a game of hangman Kingsley had played with himself and lost. A suspicious-looking stain marred the corner of the off-white carpet from where Kingsley had squeezed a bottle of ink to hard and it had splattered all over himself and the consulate from France.

In Kingsley's defense, he had been very preoccupied lately. He was anxiously awaiting news from his ambassador to Bulgaria regarding the terms of a treaty the two countries had been attempting to forge. Bulgaria had always been a rather standoffish government, deeply entrenched in their cultural traditions, and thus rarely engaged in politics with their neighbors. Sealing this deal was a must if Kingsley wanted to unite the world against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Kingsley resumed pacing. A knock sounded on the thick oak door, and it took the Minister several seconds to register the noise in his tired brain. He started a bit in a rather delayed reaction to the sound, then hastily checked himself in the blessedly silent mirror. Finding nothing more serious than dark circles and a few too many frown lines, Kingsley waved a hand lazily to open the door and attempted to "act natural" as they said.

A short, plump wizard entered, the Assistant Secretary of Foreign Affairs. The man seemed very tired; indeed he was stifling a yawn as he entered, and he too had pronounced bags drooping beneath his eyes. He gestured hello to the Minister as he carefully surveyed the current state of the office.

"Do you have any news?" Kingsley ground out, too tense to suffer a lecture on personal hygiene.

The Assistant-whatever-he-was nodded and held out one pudgy fist. Clutched in his hand was an important looking letter bearing the seal of the Bulgarian Ministry. Kingsley snatched up the letter, and the Assistant left the office, heading either for home or the coffee machine.

With bated breath, the Minister slit open the Bulgarian wax seal and unfolded the piece of parchment, which appeared to come from Minister Oblansk himself. As Kingsley's eyes scanned each successive line, his eyebrows reached further and further toward his non-existent hairline.

"Oh Merlin's pants," he muttered, dragging his palm across his face in frustration, "How will I ever pull this one off?"

Swearing to himself, Kingsley slumped down into the cushioned chair in front of his desk and began drafting a rather awkward and confusing letter to a prominent wizarding family.

"Don't be so down tonight," the mirror on the wall said, "I'm sure tomorrow will be even worse."

Kingsley couldn't help but agree.

Draco Malfoy, self-proclaimed prince of the pureblood world, was not a very happy camper. He was tired, hungry, and to top it all off he'd been forced to leave the house that morning without so much as a glance in a mirror. He probably looked like a mess compared with his normally pristine self.

No, Draco was not in a good mood at all. In fact, he was a veritable storm cloud ready to rain thunder and lightening down on the first unfortunate soul that happened across his path.

"Oh quit sulking," Narcissa Malfoy muttered to her brooding son in the chair beside her.

"But mother," Draco hissed back, "It's an ungodly hour to be awake. And during the summer no less. I should be in bed right now catching up on my beauty sleep."

"For goodness sake Draco," Narcissa replied, "It's almost noon. Besides, you know the minister asked us here personally. Our family doesn't exactly have the best reputation right now. We need to comply in any way we can."

Draco crossed his arms and did what he did best: pouted.

"Ahem," the deep sound of a clearing throat drew both Malfoys' attention to the door of the Minister's office.

His father and the Minister were standing in the doorway, both looking stiff and rather too solemn for Draco's liking.

"If you will please step into my office," The Minister said slowly, "I have a rather important matter to discuss with you, Draco."

Draco looked only slightly interested by this. His bed was still calling.

"Do something with your hair," Lucius Malfoy demanded under his breath as Draco stepped past him into the office.

Draco bit back a snide remark.

"Now," the Minister began once the entire Malfoy family was seated in over-stuffed armchairs placed in a semicircle around his desk, "I imagine this will seem…I'm not sure how to explain. This is an extremely awkward situation, but it must be treated very carefully. One wrong step and we could be dealing with war."

Kingsley paused and looked up at the confused faces of Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. He made a noncommittal sound of discomfort.

"I'm not making much sense, am I?" the Minister paused, took a deep breath, and began again, "For quite a long time now I have been working on forging somewhat of an alliance between our Ministry and the Bulgarian's. Ever since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reappeared, it has seemed a top priority that we call as many to our aid as possible. I've been engaged in several talks with the Bulgarian Ministry and I think we've finally managed to come to some agreement. There are only a few minor technicalities to work out."

"That's good news," Narcissa said politely, trying to discreetly nudge her son awake and appear enthralled all at the same time.

"Yes well that's the difficult part," the Minister replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "Last night I received the final condition of the treaty, and it isn't a very conventional one. It seems that they want to end the pact in the traditional Bulgarian manner of sealing alliances between families…marriage."

The room fell silent. Lucius had been quiet as the grave the entire time. He had already heard the explanation, and was quite hoping to hear it differently a second time. Narcissa stared, her mouth open slightly, confused. Draco tried not to fall asleep.

"And what might that condition have to do with my family," Narcissa asked slowly, as though she already knew the answer and was hoping the minister would tell her she was wrong.

"Well…you see…" the Minister appeared to visibly stumble on his words as he tried to explain what was to be asked of them, "the Minister has a young daughter, around your son's age, I think. Minister Oblansk has offered his daughter to marry a prominent wizard from our Ministry, and…"

"And you are suggesting this wizard be Draco?" Narcissa finished, a horrified look of understanding wrought all over her face.

At the sound of his name, Draco snapped awake and glanced around. His mother looked as though she was having a heart attack, and the Minister and his father were staring rather poignantly at him.

"I'm sorry," Draco mumbled, trying to hide the fact that he had been snoozing, "I must have missed that last bit."

"Well, Draco," Lucius finally spoke, glaring at his son venomously for not paying attention, "the Minister has requested that you and Minster Oblansk's daughter be married for the sake of politics."

Draco stopped and blinked rather stupidly at his father. Surely he had just heard incorrectly. Married? He had only turned seventeen four months ago. This must be some elaborate hoax.

Draco opened his mouth to protest, "Minister I…"

"WE would be honored," Narcissa jumped in, ignoring the blatant glare of loathing emanating from her son.

"Mother I…"

"Now, now Draco," Narcissa said as she once again cut her son off, "We've been thinking that you were almost old enough to be married anyway, and anything we can do for the Ministry is our honor."

Draco looked as if he were going to argue, but wisely shut up at the stern look his father shot his way.

"Now I'm not asking for an answer at this moment," the Minister stepped in before the Malfoys could destroy his freshly clean office, "I do want you to meet the girl before you agree to anything. She and Minister Oblansk will be coming to sign the treaty in three days time. I would like to introduce you then, and we shall see where things progress from there.

"You must understand the delicate position I am in. To outright refuse Minister Oblansk would be highly insulting. This tradition is a common occurrence in the Bulgarian culture. Of course I hate to put you in such a situation, Draco, but I fear that there is little I can do. I'm told the daughter is very pretty, and polite. I've never met her myself, but I'll bet you two get along very well. She attends Durmstrang Academy and…"

"With all due respect Minister," Draco interrupted, massaging his temples, "Could we possibly continue this conversation another day? I believe I have had quite enough of marriage talk for the moment."

The Minister looked taken aback by Draco's forwardness, but immediately nodded.

"Yes, yes, of course," He said, standing and shaking the hands of each Malfoy in turn, "I will let you discuss this as a family, and I will contact you when the Minister and his daughter arrive. I believe you know the way out Lucius. I'm afraid I have some other urgent matters to attend to. Until next time."

Good byes were exchanged, and then the Malfoys left. They flooed home in absolute silence. It wasn't until the door of Malfoy Manor was completely closed before a single word was spoken.

"THERE IS NO WAY I'M AM GETTING MARRIED TO SOME BULGARIAN GIRL I DON'T EVEN KNOW!!!!"

Poor naïve little Draco...

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Wow! Really boring first chapter. I'd just like to say that it will get better. 

NEXT CHAPTER:

Draco meets Minister Oblansk's daughter, and boy does he get a surprise!!!

**REVIEW if you have _ever_ waved a stick around in you backyard and tried to levitate things.**


	2. Summer in Bulgaria

Disclaimer: I own nothing. emo tear

Draco Malfoy and the Totally Random Engagement

Ch1: The Proposal

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Bulgaria was not a pleasant place to live in the summer. In the winter, spring, and fall, the weather was lovely. The beaches were sparkling, the mountains peaked in snow, and a cool wind blew through the entire country. Summer was a different story entirely. Rain and breezes were fond and far off memories. In their places were sand and dust; heat and more heat. The surrounding air was heavy and stifling, making breathing laborious and forcing many of the faint-hearted indoors to the safe haven of air-conditioning.

It was for this exact reason that Natasha Oblansk lay strewn across her blue silk chaise lounge, right arm covering her forehead, and left frantically fanning herself with a piece of paper. She had been lying there in the intense swelter of midday for two hours trying to make herself get up and make the long trek across the courtyard to eat lunch. Thus far she had obviously been unsuccessful. Her limbs were simply too heavy to bother moving, and she had seen the cook preparing some sort of stew the night before that looked more like brick mortar than anything else.

It was days like this that Natasha yearned for the chilly weather and delicious cooking of her wizarding school, Durmstrang. Although the climate there was always icy, the fires were cozy, and the students more or less the same. Whatever Durmstrang lacked in demeanor, it compensated for with its prestige and privileges. Some of the finest minds in wizarding history taught and attended the distinguished school; among them Viktor Krum and, of course, Natasha herself. As the Minister of Magic's daughter, she received a small, and not entirely unwanted, spotlight at school.

"Natasha," The unmistakable rumble of her father's voice penetrated through her hazy stupor, "Are you alright? You haven't come out for lunch yet."

The minister's daughter sighed and quickly sat up. A wave of dizziness crashed over her and she threw out a hand to steady herself.

"Natasha?"

Her father was knocking harshly on her bedroom door now. Readjusting her skirts and Natasha stood and waited for her father to enter. True to form, it was barely three seconds later that the minister came barging into her private chambers.

"Is everything okay?" He asked in a concerned tone, checking around the room for anything out of place.

Natasha nodded and replied, "Yes of course father. I simply didn't want to venture out in this heat. I'm not very hungry, anyways."

The minister seemed to accept this answer, but Natasha couldn't help but notice that he seemed a tad distracted. He stood very stiffly, and his hands kept fiddling with the hem of his robe sleeves. An awkward moment of silence settled upon the room until Minister Oblansk cleared his throat and walked over to the water pitcher in the corner.

"Would you like a glass of water, dear?" he asked, then, at her nod, proceeded to pour two cups.

He handed one to his daughter, and Natasha relished in the feel of cold glass against her skin.

"What is it that troubles you, father?" She asked, quietly.

Minister Oblansk looked at her carefully then nodded to himself.

"We will be leaving for a vacation of sorts this evening," He said, "Have the servants pack your things."

Natasha raised her eyebrows, "May I ask why and where we are going."

The minister turned to leave as she asked.

"We are going to Britain to meet your future husband," He replied over his shoulder, "We leave at exactly five, so be ready."

He heard a sharp gasp, and then the sound of glass shattering against the hard stone floor.

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Five o'clock rolled around faster than Natasha would have liked. She had screamed, yelled, pouted, broken things, and all she had gotten for her trouble was a sore throat. Now here she stood, in front of the fireplace in her summer mansion, waiting for the minister himself to show up. Her father hadn't shifted his position at all. In all honesty, she hadn't expected him to, but that was far from a comforting thought.

How could he do this to her? You didn't just walk up to someone and tell them they were getting married whether they liked it or not, and to a complete stranger no less. One of Natasha's maids, Nikola, had tried rather unsuccessfully to cheer her up.

"It's an honor to serve your father and our Ministry in this way," she had said.

Natasha couldn't help feeling that Nikola was only saying that because a.) she wasn't the one getting married, and b.) she wouldn't have to do Natasha's laundry for a week.

Heavy footsteps announced the arrival of the minister and the servants carrying the luggage. Natasha did her best to look angry.

"Don't look at me like that Natasha," her father warned as he came to where she stood in the entrance hall, "You will do what I tell you, and you will not complain."

Natasha remained silent. She said nothing as the trunks where shrunk and placed in a small bag; she said nothing as Nikola brought the jar of floo powder; she said nothing as her father grabbed a handful and was whisked away to the British Ministry.

"Go on," Nikola said sternly, interrupting Natasha's musings on whether or not she should make a break for it out the front door, "Don't even think of running. Quit being a baby and go."

Fuming, Natasha snatched some of the floo powder and stomped into the fireplace.

"British Ministry of Magic," She said, trying to will her body not to follow where the magic was making her go.

She didn't want to get married. She didn't want to get married. She was not going to get married. Her father couldn't make her. And then her knees were slamming against the ground.

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Draco Malfoy sat less than patiently in the waiting room outside Kingsley Shacklebolt's office for the second time that week, and he was in no better mood than on the first occasion. Today he would be having dinner with his "fiancé" and meeting her for the first time. For the most part, he would rather be having a romantic candlelit dinner with a flobberworm.

He had not even met this girl, but already he was completely set against her. He was convinced that this "minister's daughter" was conspiring with Shacklebolt to ruin his life. It made sense to him that some girl, probably hopelessly unattractive, would want to cook up some crazy scheme to get herself married to a man so handsome and desirable as himself. This, Draco reasoned, was the only logical explanation for what was happening to him.

"The Minister and his daughter have just arrived," A voice said.

Draco looked up to see both of his parents, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and David Hurst, the foreign ambassador, standing in front of him. He gave them a look as if to say, 'and your point is?' Sick and tired of her son's pouting, Narcissa grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up.

"Get in there right now, Draco," She hissed angrily, "Quit making a fool out of yourself and your parents."

Draco made to protest, but was cut off as his mother shoved him forcefully toward the Minister's office. He stopped directly in front of the door and looked over his shoulder, pleading for anyone to let him just go home and not face what was on the other side. His father gave him a stern glare, and Draco knew that he had no choice in the matter. He sucked in a deep breath, reached out a hand, and placed it on the doorknob.

Behind him, Hurts leaned over to whisper in Shacklebolt's ear, "Do you really think the Malfoy boy is the best person to hand the fate of our alliance to?"

"No," Shacklebolt replied, "I'm sort of hoping that Minister Oblansk will dislike him so much, he'll call off the whole thing."

Hurst nodded, "Good plan."

Oblivious to the conversation behind him, Draco entered the office. At first all he saw was a rather large man standing in the corner by the fireplace, presumably Minister Oblansk. He held himself rather stoically, and he was dressed in traditional style robes. It took Draco several seconds to notice the girl beside him. She was rooted to the floor, arms folded over her chest, and eyes sending a death glare to the burgundy rig beneath her feet. She stood in the shadow of her father, and so Draco could not see much of her beyond her outline.

"Ah, Minister Oblansk," Kingsley Shacklebolt called, pushing past Draco into the office, "So good to see you. And your lovely daughter too. I trust you are both well."

"Indeed," Oblansk replied in a heavy accent, "I am very well. My daughter, I'm afraid, is behaving in rather poor manner. I apologize for her rudeness."

Shacklebolt seemed a little taken aback as he clearly thought the young girl had done nothing that could be deemed impolite.

"Yes...well. Oh! Of course. I should introduce you," Kingsley said, remembering quite suddenly why they were all there, "This is young Draco Malfoy, and his parents Narcissa and Lucius. They are very distinguished members of our magical community."

"So good to meet you," Oblansk smiled, stepping forward to shake all of their hands, "I am very happy to meet the boy and his honorable parents. I hope that we will be good friends, indeed."

The adults traded greetings and handshakes while Draco attempted to get a better look at the daughter. She was still in the corner pouting, but people kept stepping in front of her, preventing Draco from getting any view.

"Where are my manners?" Oblansk cried, seemingly overjoyed at the possibility of a union with such an aristocratic family, "You must meet my daughter, Natasha. How rude of me to forget."

He said something to the girl in a foreign language. She responded in a heated manner, and he stomped his foot in response. The girl came over to stand behind him. Oblansk turned back, smiling embarrassedly at the Malfoys and Shacklebolt.

"Here she is. She's a little tired," He said, hurriedly, "May I present my daughter, Natasha Oblansk."

The minister stepped to the side and motioned to his daughter behind him. Draco took a long moment to look at her. She was uncommonly pretty, with long, curly brown hair. Her eyes were also brown, but slightly lighter. They caught the firelight, making them dance and glow. Draco couldn't help but notice the slight tinge of red in the corners of her eyes, as though she had recently been crying.

Draco felt himself being nudged forward, and he heard his father speaking.

"And this is my son," Lucius stated, "Draco. I'm afraid he also has been rather impolite. Children these days simply don't appreciate things anymore."

Natasha bowed her head in Draco's direction, and he immediately felt uncomfortable with the show of respect. She turned to Narcissa and Lucius and bowed to them as well.

"It is so nice to make your acquaintance," She said softly, almost whispering, "I feel very honored to meet all of you."

The Malfoys and Shacklebolt were instantly taken with her, replying that the pleasure was theirs. The adults appeared to be getting along quite well. Shacklebolt was making jokes, which Oblansk found hilarious, and the Malfoys pretended to laugh out of respect. Draco and Natasha were left to stare at each other rather awkwardly until the other four decided it was high time for dinner.

Shacklebolt led Oblansk and the Malfoys out of his office and toward the dining area, leaving the two teenagers alone together.

"So," Draco mumbled, trying to break the silence, "This whole thing sucks huh?"

Natasha looked up at him. Draco was shocked to see her entire persona had changed. Her eyes were hard and angry, and her jaw was clenched tightly. She tilted her chin up in an obvious show of snobbery.

"Let's get something straight," She said, thick accent adding to the intimidating effect, "I don't like you or your ministry. Back home, I am treated almost like a princess, and I have no desire to change that. Why don't you just try not to upset me? As long as you stay quiet and learn your place, I should be able to tolerate you."

And with that, the girl stomped out of the office to follow her father, leaving Draco standing, jaw dropped, stammering like and idiot. What exactly was he getting himself into?

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**Review if you've _ever_ dressed up for a midnight Harry Potter party!**

Next Chapter: Natasha and Minister Oblansk have dinner with the Malfoys and Kinglsey, but Draco begins to notice something very off about his intended. And what's this about he and Natasha spending a whole lot of time together?

-Grammarfreak16


	3. Plans

**Disclaimer:** I cannot be held responsible for this story. THE VOICES MADE ME DO IT!

Speaking of voices…..we're talking about point of view (that's who tells the story for those of you who don't know) in my lit class, so I thought I'd experiment with POV in this chapter. SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

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Draco Malfoy and the Totally Random Engagement

Ch3: Plans

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Draco's POV

"What just happened?" I asked myself in a whisper, Natasha's words and the door slamming still ringing in my ear.

Who did this girl think she was? 'I'm pretty much like royalty.' Yeah right. Well I knew a thing or two about royalty, and that girl's reign of terror was about to end. There was now way, abso-frickin-lutely NO WAY I was gonna marry that…that…that thing!

Determined and still slightly scared, I marched out of the Minister's office and down the hallway toward the dining area. It was time to tell my parents, the minister, the other minister, and the little devil-woman what reality was. And I'll give you a hint, it didn't involve me marrying any girl named Natasha!

Natasha's POV

I walked regally into the dining hall where my father, Minister Shacklebolt, and the two Malfoys were already seated and talking energetically. I slipped back on my mask of perfectly silent subservience. No need to let my father in on my genius plan to rid myself of the awful, though admittedly handsome, Malfoy boy. I was essentially a princess, and princesses did not do anything they didn't want to do, particularly marrying a random, though handsome, stranger in a completely different country.

"Father," I acknowledged, bowing my head and slipping into the traditional daughter's seat beside the father.

"Where is Draco?" Mrs. Malfoy (Narcissa was it?) asked.

I was spared answering by the boy's entrance into the dining hall. He was obviously shaken by my strange welcome words. It's not that I didn't like him or anything. Far from it, in fact. He was, as I may have mentioned earlier, exceedingly good-looking; tall and lean with white-gold hair and eyes the color of a sky after a rainstorm. His eyes were what captivated me the most; intense and passionate, just like the thunderclouds they so closely resembled.

"Where have you been, dear?" Mrs. Malfoy asked her son as he seated himself beside, much to my annoyance, me.

"Just having a little chat with Natasha here," Draco replied, a subtly sinister grin on his face.

Uh-oh. What was that look? And that answer? What was he planning? Whatever it was, it wasn't going to interfere with my plans. I was getting a one-way ticket home, back to my mansion and my school, my friends, and my regularly scheduled life. No one, I mean no one, would get in my way.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Kingsley's POV $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Was it going well? I couldn't look. I couldn't tell whether I wanted it to go well or not. Did I want Draco and Natasha to be wed, or was I hoping that Draco's rudeness would be my ticket out of this whole situation. Whatever the outcome, I felt sorry for that poor girl. Anyone forced to spend time with Draco Malfoy was misfortunate indeed.

&&&&&&&&&&&&& Normal POV &&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dinner passed pleasantly. The Malfoys and Oblansk hit it off rather well considering they were soon to be related. Shacklebolt faked a smile, but he had his fingers crossed beneath the table. Only the two teenagers ate in silence. They shot each other suspicious glances over the roast pheasant, and murderous glances over dessert, but the adults were too oblivious to notice. Or perhaps they didn't care about their children's' opinions on arranged marriage.

"You are very quiet, Natasha," Minister Oblansk said, finally noticing his daughter's silence, "She is usually loud all the time. I cannot get her to stop talking."

Natasha had the decency to blush, but offered no reply beyond a shrug of the shoulders.

"Draco is being abnormally quiet as well," Lucius Malfoy remarked, though Draco could have been jumping up and down in his chair singing the Canadian Nation Anthem and he would have said the same.

Narcissa placed her fork and knife on her plate with a clink, and fixed the teenagers with a penetrating look.

"I know this is uncomfortable for you two," She began, "But I think that you will get to like each other in time. You need only to spend some time together really talking, and obviously you cannot do so with all of us sitting here. Minister Oblansk," here she turned to look at the Bulgarian Minister, "Perhaps you will permit Natasha to spend the weekend at Malfoy Manor. She and Draco will be able to get further acquainted, and I assure you she will be well looked after."

Minister Oblansk appeared to think this suggestion over for a minute or two. Finally he nodded.

"Yes," He grinned, "That is a brilliant idea. I have some business to attend to back in Bulgaria, but I shall return on Monday to collect her. Yes. I think this is very good. You are alright with this, Natasha?"

Draco looked at Natasha, jaw dropped, eyes wide open. Surely she would not agree to this.

"I agree with this completely," Natasha said respectfully, "I would like very much to get to know all of you better. I thank you for inviting me to your home."

And like that it was settled. Draco tuned out the rest of the dinner conversation. What had happened to the snotty brat he'd conversed with in the office, and who was this sweet, polite girl before him? As everyone got up to leave and Oblansk and the Malfoys arranged to have Natasha's things sent over to the Manor, Draco pulled his "intended" aside.

"What the hell is with you?" He hissed, "One second you're Witchy McBitch, and the next you're the perfect little angel."

Natasha glanced over at the adults who were just within earshot.

"Why, Draco," She said sweetly, "I have no idea what you mean."

But her wide smirk completely gave her away.

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Thanks for reading guys. See that review button below. Click it! Writers love to be told how much the suck and what they can do to improve.

**Next Chapter:** Natasha spends a weekend over at Malfoy Manor, but Draco begins to realize what kind of game she's playing. Natasha acts sweet and innocent whenever someone else is around, but when it's just her and Draco, she's a nightmare!

**Review if you have ever wanted someone else to review your story. Remember people KARMA: IT'S A BITCH!!**

-Grammarfreak16


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